Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/230

212 What a melting bridal carol Sings the nightmgale, the pure one. How the fire-flies in the grasses Trip their sparkling torchlight dances ! In the grove the silence deepens, Naught is heard save furtive rustling Of the swaying myrtle branches, And the breathing of the flowers. But the sound of drum and trumpet Burst forth sudden from the castle. Rudely they awaken Clara, Pillowed on her lover's bosom. " Hark ! they summon me, my darling ! But before we part, oh tell me, Tell me what thy precious name is, Which so closely thou hast hidden." Then the knight with gentle laughter, Kissed the fingers of his Donna, Kissed her lips and kissed her forehead. And at last these words he uttered : " I, Señora, your beloved, Am the son of the respected, Worthy, erudite Grand Rabbi, Israel of Saragossa."